Dark Times
by StargateRevolution
Summary: What if the Empire had survived - and reigned - after the events of 'Return of the Jedi? Follow a new band of rebels, as well as a few old friends, as they battle against the enemy 45 years after the Battle of Yavin, and face a dark threat that might forever scar the face of the galaxy. Dark times are ahead... (AU)
1. Celebrations

**HARRIL, 45 ABY - EMPIRE DAY**

The X-Wing twisted mid-air as it breached the atmosphere of Harril, just avoiding the green blast of a following TIE-Defender. Although battered and many years older than its counterpart, the X-Wing still managed to move energetically and was a surprisingly easy fly. It almost gave its pilot hope that he might make it out of this confrontation alive. Almost.

The X-Wing began to accelerate as it burst through the grey clouds of Harril and arrived in the blue skies of the world. The TIE-Defender was close behind, shooting its bolts rapidly, yet somehow missing every shot. The pilot of the X-Wing had no doubt that this TIE-Defender Pilot had once been a Stormtrooper; his aim was too bad for him not to have been.

An energy bolt got closer to the X-Wing than any of the TIE-Defender's had before, and the pilot realised that he had very little time before the enemy pilot rectified his aiming and fired a bolt that could actually kill him. The Rebel pilot needed to act now - he needed to loose this foe. Otherwise, he would die. This pilot, without a doubt, did not like the sound of that idea.

He let his hand drop onto the steering and - after letting out a puff of air - yanked it down. The X-Wing immediately jerked in response, dropping in height and getting every closer the nearby mountain rage, peaked with the purist of snow that, if the pilot was not careful, would become his death bed. Another blast from the enemy reminded the Rebel pilot that this was a true opportunity, as the pilot spun around his X-Wing and aimed it at the incoming TIE-Defender. Now was his chance to eliminate the enemy, to deliver a final punch to the foe before the inevitable second TIE-Defender arrived and eliminated him.

The blasts of red from the X-Wing struck the glass front window of the TIE-Defender, shattering it and exposing the enemy pilot inside to the skies of Harril. The X-Wing Pilot had no doubt that his enemy had screamed - begged for mercy. That meant very little; it had meant very little to the Empire when they had eliminated his entire squadron. This, to the X-Wing Pilot - was the perfect vengeance.

He almost forgot to steer his X-Wing out of the way of the TIE-Defender's broken shell, and he would have collided with it if it wasn't for the whizz of more incoming enemy vessels that caused him to awake from his daydreams. The X-Wing pilot instinctively grabbed the steering and veered to the left, into a low hanging cloud. The steamy substance made it impossible for the Pilot to see anything outside of his cockpit, but that didn't bother him.

He would rather not see his killers as they fired their blasters at him and finally eliminated the last of the Red Squadron. He didn't want them to imprint his terrified sweaty face in their memories, so that they could call upon it when they were feeling blue or needed inspiration on a dull day of executing Rebel Prisoners. He wanted them to believe he had died with a grin on his face, or with a victorious cry that he was 'dying for the Rebellion'.

His hopes that the Imperial Forces would truly believe him to be brave in his death were the last. Uncountable beams of green broke into the clouds and forced their way through the X-Wing hull, destroying everything they came across. Cables sparked and split into two, control panels shattered, and the round head of the X-Wing pilot was incinerated into ashes, leaving a headless torso.

The next shots caused even more damage, shattering the front window of the X-Wing and draining the pilot into the abyss. His body was the next to be struck by green, as a blast shot straight through his chest, revealing his crisp burnt inners, and the black flapping remains of his skin under his once-orange-now-ash flight-suit. Another beam hit him, then another. Then another, until there was nothing left of his corpse. Just ashes, left to explore the skies of Harril and slowly descend upon the cities below, like the snow that came to Harril during Winter.

As the ashes of the pilot fluttered effortlessly towards the surface below, one final blast from a hidden TIE-Defender shattered the final pieces of metal that were the X-Wing, turning it into thousands of deadly shards. They too would rain down, only they _would_ cause devastation. Perhaps they would kill an enemy, if they were lucky? Perhaps the annihilated Red Squadron would, in fact, have the final laugh?

* * *

Admiral Iralim stood on the Bridge of his Star Destroyer, _Eclipse_ , as he looked out from the massive window at the beautiful crystalline world of Harril. Below, if he squinted carefully, Iralim could see through his pitch black eyes the bursts of green from his own TIE-Defenders, and a small explosion that no doubt accompanied the destruction of an X-Wing.

If Admiral Iralim was correct in his assumption, this X-Wing was the last of the Red Squadron - a squadron that had only arrived on Harril a day before, with the intentions of causing mass destruction on Empire Day. Early this morning, their X-Wings had been discovered by Stormtroopers and Admiral Iralim had ordered their dismantlement. This, obviously, had spurred the pilots into action.

Now all that remained were shards of sharp metal and the occasional floating body part, although many of the bodies had already rained down on cities of Harril, causing slight hysteria. Admiral Iralim assumed that the Rebels would see that as a victory in their war against the Empire; of course, it was not. The Empire won every confrontation with the Rebels - Iralim won every confrontation.

Slowly, the dark skinned figure turned to look at his Imperial Officers who worked tirelessly at their computers. They were of stark contrast to his appearance - unlike his own dark skin, they were all purely white. Unlike his long brown hair, they all had haircuts that made them appear to have rods up their asses. They all wore dark green uniform, unlike Admiral Iralim's white dress-wear, marred with awards of recognition and golden emulates that gave him the appearance of importance.

When his mouth opened, the Admiral talked in a harsh but well spoken voice, in contrast to his officers, who always seemed to speak with soft voices but used the words of savages.

'I would like the surface of Harril to be searched for anymore X-Wings please,' Admiral Iralim begun, his words as mannerly as ever, 'and I would also like the Stormtroopers to enforce that all unexpected visitors be executed swiftly. If they have time before the parade, of course.'

Admiral Iralim smiled as one of his officers dropped his fingers onto a keypad and began to type in his master's orders. The people of _Eclipse_ listened to every world Admiral Iralim spoke as if it were the direct words from the Emperor himself, obeying every little request, whether it be the destruction of the planet or the fetching of a refreshing drink.

Ever since being a child, Admiral Iralim had dreamed of this power, of people bowing down at his feet and following his every request. Now he had down all he could to turn that dream into a reality, and the result had been captivating. The power Admiral Iralim had was beyond insane - he was never questioned, never doubted. Even if he wanted to cancel Empire Day on Harril, his forces would follow him.

So, as Admiral Iralim looked out of the window of his Star Destroyer at the world below him once more, he allowed a grin to creep onto his slim but muscular face. He had no doubt that if there were any Rebels left alive on the world below, they would be eliminated. Then Admiral Iralim could relax and have a delicious meal in his quarters, in the company of these slaves who called themselves 'Officers'.

* * *

Jale Corsi fingered the trigger of the ancient blaster in his right hand. It was an E-11 blaster carbine, the weapon once used by the Stormtroopers of the Empire before they had updated their armoury with such blasters as the E-29 or the E-66. In comparison to these newer weapons, the E-11 was inefficient and had a poor shot, but it was the best, and most easy model, to get hold of and Jale had found nothing better. Still, it was remarkably light _and_ did feel quite comfortable in his hands, so at least that was something.

In a few minutes time, Jale would be using this blaster. He was standing amongst a crowd of excited civilians dressed in their best clothes or costumes. In fact, the man in front of Jale was dressed in a Darth Vader costume, although the belt he wore struggled desperately to conceal his oversized stomach. Fists were raised in the air and anthems were sung, as a sense of genuine joy spread across the crowd.

Jale would not be taken in by these villainous senses; Jale was a rebel. Sent to Harril to cause disruption to the Empire and life on this world, he would do as commanded. He would show the Empire that the Rebellion was not going to back down. But first he needed to wait for Admiral Iralim. Jale knew for a fact that the Admiral would be coming to this celebration - every Admiral was required to attend the celebrations of their designated planet. Jale simply had to be patient.

The crowd grew ever more wild as they begin to part to form an aisle, in order for the approaching Stormtroopers to have easy access to an enormous stage that had been built by the men of Harril the night before. An enormous flag sat behind the stage, the symbol of the Empire printed in the centre, and two Shadow Troopers already stood on the stage, their shining armour reflecting the bright beams of the two suns in the sky above. They never flinched, nor moved.

As the Stormtroopers passed by in their perfect march, Jale was able to have a tiny peak over the shoulder of the fat Darth Vader before the fat Darth Vader re-positioned. What Jale saw was well cleaned armour, boots that appeared to be brand new, helmets that were unmarked and without scratch, brand new E-66s, no doubt brought to this world in the last day or to. What Jale didn't see was Admiral Iralim.

The man in the clear white uniform with the golden emblems. No where to be seen.

Jale breathed a sigh of frustration as he let his right hand relax; the E-11 carbine blaster dropped to his side. He had come all this way and had spent a day in the presence of Empire-supporting scumbags in order to have a shot at Admiral Iralim, and he hadn't even arrived. X-Wing pilots had lost their lives for this cause! The Rebel Squadron had been torn apart for this! All for the excuse of a forced visit by Admiral Iralim, in order to not just celebrate the victorious Empire, but also warn the citizens of Harril against Rebellion.

Everything, every life lost, for nothing. Jale refused to accept this. He refused to accept that Admiral Iralim wouldn't come down to the surface on Empire Day. He refused to believe that he wouldn't get to execute that well respected Imperial in front of a crowd of Admiral Iralim's supporters, inevitably leading to his own death. This simply wasn't fair.

Slowly, Jale moved the E-11 back up into a perfect shooting position and allowed his index finger to find the trigger again. He would not allow Harril to comfortably celebrate such an evil occasion without giving them a few surprises... Jale checked that his blaster was loaded correctly before he attempted to take aim through the sight. Sadly, his vision was blocked by the fat Darth Vader.

That wasn't a problem for long. A single jab from the blade in Jale's left hand straight into the man's neck took him down to the floor, flattening a few others in front of him also. No body seemed to notice or care; they simply assumed that he had fainted, and a lot of people had fainted. Instead, they noticed the E-11 in Jale's hands, and the knife that was being returned to his belt.

Before anybody could stop him, Jale aimed his blaster at a Stormtrooper in the march and fired. A single blast shot through the helmet, leaving a tiny orange ringed hole and a corpse. The other Stormtroopers didn't have chance to react; Jale had already begun to fire at him with his own weapon. The E-11 hit another trooper in the chest, sending him flying before he hit the ground with a solid thump.

The crowd around Jale was unsure of how to react as Jale took cover behind the fat man's body and took aim once more. This time it was at an Imperial Officer, hiding behind two Stormtroopers who seemed to be his human shield. The Officer was a slimy man, with a greasy face and short grey hair that was in desperate need of a shower. Then, moments later, the need for a shower disappeared. Instead, it was replaced with the need for a doctor, as a blast had shot through the Officer's eye. The Officer - of course - screamed, but he didn't have chance to say much more as Jale fired yet another bolt into the Officer's body.

The Stormtroopers responded by raising their own E-66s and firing into the crowd. They didn't care who they hit, as long as they hit something, and soon a pile of bodies was beginning to form. Citizens of Harril instantly attempted to flee, heading out into roads besides the stage, but the Stormtroopers continued to fire out of hope that they would block off any escape and be able to find the Rebel culprit for this attack.

Jale was already darting away; he had seen the capability of the E-66s, and knew that if the Stormtroopers were able to spot him he would be dead in a matter of seconds, however bad their aim. He had caused enough chaos already, with Stormtroopers firing into the crowd and an Officer dead. Making an escape would be the best option in this moment.

Jale acted on instinct, scooping up the mask of yet another dead cos-player, and hiding away his face under the guise of Darth Vader. Then he dropped his leather jacket to the ground and replaced it with a thick blue coat, with appeared to have a DC-17 in its pocket. Again, Jale acted instinctively and dropped his E-11, as he knew that the Stormtroopers would recognise the weapon.

He was embraced by the crowd as they made their escape into the road, followed closely by the firing Stormtroopers, but soon he had pushed himself into a safe position. The crowd carried on forwards, despite the blasts that were being fired into them, and Jale allowed himself to breath. He wasn't out of this deadly situation yet, but soon enough he would be.

Soon enough he'd be back at Tatooine, the new home of the Rebellion, where he would be celebrated as a great soldier and much needed trooper. Then, one day, he'd return to Harril with more X-Wings and troops, and they'd wreak havoc on this world.

It was the Rebel way.


	2. Eclipse

**HARRIL, 45 ABY - EMPIRE DAY**

The quarters that belonged to Admiral Iralim were beautiful in design, with not an inch of metal to be seen. Designed entirely from the wood of trees taking from Kashyyyk, this room was the definition of elegance. The walls were lined with paintings taken from all across the galaxy, with each having a common theme of the Empire. One painting even featured the Admiral himself, standing with a Stormtrooper helmet under one arm and the head of an Ewok under the other, slightly crushed by the immense strength of the Admiral's hands.

In the centre of the room, there was a King sized bed, with soft linen spread neatly across it and patterned to look as if it were covered in brown leaves. Two big pillows sat against the headrest, fluffed and ready to be slept on. By the bed was a holo-book sitting comfortably on a small bedside table, and by the table an enormous desk with a swivelling leather chair tucked in behind it.

The first thing Officer Brigard noticed, however, was the man himself. Admiral Iralim had removed his white jacket, and now sat at the end of his bed with a bottle of Corellian Ale in his hands. He sipped from it elegantly as Brigard stepped further into the room, out of the shadow of the door and into the light.

'Admiral Iralim,' Brigard began, after gulping and wiping sweat from his forehead, 'I've been sent to inform you-'

'Of what?' the Admiral asked, 'please speed your words. I have not - despite what you might believe, Officer Brigard - got all day.' The Admiral smiled an enormous grin revealing his perfectly cleaned teeth before he filled his mouth with more ale and swirled it around with his tongue. It should have looked savage and unprofessional, yet somehow it made the Admiral look wise and thoughtful.

'I - we - have just been informed ourselves that...' Brigard took a breath. These next few words would be hard to speak and he knew that the Admiral would certainly not take them very well.

'Please carry on,' the Admiral muttered, after swallowing the drink. He did appear to be genuinely interested, even if he hid behind the facade of no interest.

'Well, sir... We - we have just been informed of a, erm, terrorist attack on the Empire Day celebrations on Harril.' Brigard closed his mouth tightly the moment he finished speaking, and closed his own eyes. He didn't want to have to make eye contact with those dark eyes that belonged to the Admiral. He could hear, however, pacing.

'Please open your eyes, Brigard.'

Brigard reluctantly did as ordered, and as he slowly opened his eyes he felt the heavy breathing of an angry man heating his forehead. When he could finally see again, he learnt that this man was Admiral Iralim. The Admiral stood as closely as he could possibly get, with his chest pushed against Brigard's and his eyes examining Brigard's soul. Clearly what the Admiral saw did not please him.

Lifting up his bear like hands, the Admiral grabbed a panicking Brigard by the neck and pushed him against one of the wooden walls. A light echo shot through the room, enhanced by the sound of the Admiral's foot tapping on the floor. Brigard desperately wanted to close his eyes again - close his ears also; he wanted to shut out this nightmare. The Admiral would not let him.

'Officer Brigard,' the Admiral said with a surprising calmness, 'tell me the full story.'

'Yes... Yes, my lord. It - it was a man in the crowd. He pulled out an E-11, sir, and he fired it at a Stormtrooper in the Parade. Then everything turned to carnage, and the civilians started running. Then the Stormtroopers fired at civilians and, according to my informants, there were bodies left, right and everywhere. One of our Officers, Officer Erics, was killed.'

'I assume by the shear look of terror on your face that the terrorist Rebel was not discovered?' Admiral Iralim asked. Again, he was smiling. Brigard could smell the mint of the Admiral's breath from his position on the wall. Normally, it would be considered pleasant. In this very moment, it was beyond menacing.

'No, sir. I... W _e_ believe he got away, sir.'

'" _We"_ possibly should have informed me during the attack that it was occurring, correct? Officer Brigard?' The Admiral had taken on the voice of a strict but nurturing parent, but Brigard could see right through it. This was the time when Brigard would admit to making a mistake and the Admiral would beat him to death for it. Brigard had seen the Admiral do it numerous times, and had learnt to ignore it.

'I... Sir, we should have. But it's not entirely my fault, my lord. It is the fault of the Stormtroopers, for not having searched the planet properly; they should have uncovered this Rebel. It is the fault of the rest of the Bridge, who did not order the use of TIE-Fighters during the attack. By no means is it entirely my fault.'

'By no means is it entirely my fault, _Admiral_.' Admiral Iralim corrected. 'And it is your fault, Officer Brigard. I do not intend to be rude, or to 'shoot the messenger' as one might say, but lessons must be taught to the rest of the crew. Failure ends in death.'

Brigard had little time to respond before the hands clutched around his neck tightened. His breathing was cut off as he began to scream desperately for oxygen. His arms and legs kicked and punched, desperate to escape this enormous Admiral, but the Admiral was unmovable. His giant black eyes still looked uninterested as the Admiral tightened his grip even more and sent a knee into Brigard's stomach.

'Please, Officer Brigard. Tell me it is not your fault just one more time. Beg for my forgiveness...'

It was of no use; Brigard knew that Admiral Iralim would not let him leave this room alive. The Admiral had a particular hatred of loose ends, and there was no doubt that Brigard would be one. He simply had to embrace this suffering and the approaching death.

'I...' Brigard begun, terrified and short of breath, 'will not beg.'

Immediately, the grip around Brigard's neck loosened as Brigard's body slumped to the wooden floor. He could feel his heart pounding as Admiral Iralim turned to look away, before approaching his enormous bed and taking a seat. Brigard was unsure if his oxygen deprived brain was imagining it, but he believed that the Admiral was laughing.

'Now you, Officer Brigard, have _strength._ Thank goodness.' There was a beat of silence, as Admiral Iralim stood up once more and headed towards the entrance door. He walked with his hand risen, as if he was showing Brigard the way out. Unsure of how to act, Brigard slowly got to his feet and followed his leader, although he kept a cautious step behind the him.

'If you would please return to the Bridge, Officer Brigard, that would be of great help. All hands will be needed on deck; I am launching the TIE-Fighters and Defenders. Tonight, Harril will burn in flames.'

Brigard did not question the will of his master, almost launching out of the room before the Admiral could say another word. He did not say thank you, out of fear that Admiral Iralim would change his mind and spontaneously choke him to death. Instead he returned to the Bridge and prepared for his next orders, like he had been commanded.

Brigard had survived a deadly encounter with Admiral Iralim, and he wanted - no, _needed -_ it to be the last.

* * *

Another sip of Corellian Ale. Then a glass of Mad Mrelf - not too much, as Admiral Iralim feared getting drunk. He hated the taste but drunk it all anyway. Then he had another bottle of Corellian Ale, followed by Corellian Spiced Ale, followed by a Twistler shot. By the time Admiral Iralim had began to take more drink from his special glass cabinet, there was no doubt that he was drunk. It wasn't that he showed any signs of it - he didn't - but there was no possible way a man, even of his size, could drink the amount he had that night and still be sober.

Now he sat at the end of his bed drinking straight from the last bottle of Alderaan Wine, shipped from the planet just before it had been destroyed by the Death Star. Every other bottle it had once traveled with had either been drunk or gone missing, with many bounty hunters and scavengers searching for it alike. It's rarity meant that it was worth a small fortune, but Admiral Iralim did not care. To his own taste-buds, it tasted disgusting. He even went as far as believe it might be a fake, produced by a factory that released reproducing Alderaan Wine would make them rich.

Once Admiral Iralim had finished draining the bottle, he put it besides the empty glasses of the night and slowly put on his white jacket, as he ran a hand through his hair. He had so many things that needed to be done this evening. First, he would visit the Bridge and watch out of the main window the annihilation of the planet below and the slaughter of any who could be considered a Rebel. Then he would make contact with his wife, currently living on Coruscant, and speak to his only daughter. Then he would have sex with the female Stormtrooper who lived in a small quarters near his own.

Oh, how he had craved a night like the one he would be about to have. This... This was the life Admiral Iralim had dreamed of. This was the power he had always desired since he was a child; the power to decide whether a man would live or die, and the power to decide that a day would be the last for an entire planet. So many times before he had become an Officer of the Empire Admiral Iralim, once simply Thomas Iralim, had thought that if he could _just_ kill one person, or destroy one group of people, his life would be complete. Now he knew this to be true.

As Admiral Iralim - Thomas Iralim no more - headed towards the exit of his room, he peaked a last look. Its magnificent design was that to die for, and was proof of a lifetime of achievement. He even had a painting of himself, for crying out loud! And he was holding the head of an Ewok! It could get no better.

Admiral Iralim's stroll to the Bridge took several minutes and although his breath lingered with alcohol, there was no stagger in his steps. His body remained upright and firm, and his eyes remained focused. His hair stayed in place and his uniform stayed buttoned. To any passer by, Admiral Iralim was his normal self-aware well-mannered self; he said 'good evening' when he passed crew members, or wished them a 'good night of sleep' when he passed those who would consider him a friend, even if he did not share their feelings.

When Admiral Iralim finally did make it to the Bridge, he dropped all his manners. Only momentarily, but he still let them slip. The sight out of the Bridge's main window was simply magnificent. It was all that he had hoped for, and more. It was greater than any present he had ever received, or ever desired. It was pure - perfect. And it made him so proud.

He saw TIE-Defenders flashing by the window, blasting flashes of green at the few resisting ships that had once found rest on Harril. He saw TIE-Fighters firing rays of death at the planet below, shattering infrastructure and adding to the growing flames. He saw a world that was beginning to fall apart, and was being left in ruins at his own hands. He saw his own power.

Truly, without a doubt, Admiral Iralim was a god.


	3. Starbird

**STARBIRD, HYPERSPACE, 45 ABY - EMPIRE DAY**

Jale Corsi sat comfortably in the small cockpit of the vessel known as _Starbird_ , currently travelling through the other dimension known to most as 'hyperspace'. Like a dart in design and slickly built, _Starbird_ was one of the fastest - if not smallest - ships in the Rebellion fleet, created on the world of Farihi and a lone survivor of the recently destroyed planet. _Starbird_ had faced many horrific battles since then and was now scarred and burnt, but the ship continued to travel at top speed no matter its condition. It was a fighter, which was why Jale loved the ship so much.

Jale allowed his right hand to settle on the control panel as he checked the statistics of the ship. Everything seemed perfectly normal; the newly installed shields were at 97% efficiency and the weapons appeared to be charged in case Jale faced any unexpected attack. The chances of this were unlikely, but Jale liked to be prepared for everything. Besides, he liked knowing that he could fire a blast the moment he faced an enemy, with the enemy not expecting it.

Looking out into the strange blue swirl of hyperspace through _Starbird'_ s front window, Jale ran over the events of the day in his mind. It hadn't turned out the way he had wanted it to - he would have far preferred to have put a blast through Iralim's skull, but it had been a success. An Officer had died, and countless Stormtroopers had been blasted, likely to also pass into the dark abyss of death. Jale had showed the Rebellion's reluctance to bow down to the forces of evil, even after the deaths of ally soldiers like the Red Squadron.

Jale only hoped that this attack would really give the Empire a kick - that it would prove to them that the Rebellion was a force to be reckoned with. For far too long had the Rebellion made petty little strikes against the Empire that never led to anything but the headache of the unfortunate man or woman who would have to report failure to the Empire. But had Jale really had any success?

How was this attack any different to the numerous attacks the Rebellion had made before? A few people had died, but they could all be replaced. The Empire was a machine, permanently outputting great new talent. It would take a day or two for that Officer's role to be refilled, and only a matter of hours for new Stormtroopers to be recruited to fill the gap that Jale had formed. Perhaps these attacks weren't truly enough to ever defeat the Empire? Killing Admiral Iralim - Jale knew - would have created a gap that truly couldn't be bridged, but how did killing Stormtroopers and allowing civilians to die make any difference?

Jale forced these thoughts out of his mind. How dare he be so pessimistic as to believe that his actions meant nothing of importance. _Every_ action was important. _Every_ action showed that the people of the galaxy were not happy with this new leadership, and showed that they would not stand down until the Stormtroopers had retreated and every Officer had taken a blast to the skull. If Jale had to kill civilians - and Imperial supporting civilians at that - to gain any sense of victory, he would do so.

Anyone who had the mendacity to dress up as Darth Vader and proclaim him a great man deserved to die at the end of a blaster, and Jale knew that no man or woman in the Rebel Alliance would truly disagree with him. Besides, if they did, they would likely be put to death as a traitor - the Rebellion could not dare to afford having its morals questioned from the inside.

* * *

Officer Brigard's heavy black boots trudged through the ruins of Harril. Ordered by Admiral Iralim himself to inspect the surface and check for any survivors, Brigard had quickly assembled a team of the best Stormtroopers and had made his way down through the planet's atmosphere and away from its mountains until his team had reached what remained of a once large town.

Now, as Brigard's Stormtroopers pulled away pieces of bent metal that were once doors and wood that once held up home, Brigard saw that this town truly was no more. Every fragment of a building dragged away by Stormtroopers would reveal the burnt remains of a body, or the destroyed prize-possessions of a now dead master. Brigard picked up one such item - a teddy bear - and allowed it to rest in his right hand for a few short moments.

Once pink, now most of the bear was covered in a layer of grey ash, with its arms and legs burnt to a black crisp. One of the black button eyes had popped out, vanishing in the rouble, and the thread that had once kept the head of the bear attached to the body was becoming loose. These small details, however, were not the first thing Brigard noticed about the teddy bear...

The small hand of a child burnt away at the wrist and now simply bone clung desperately to the teddy bear's plump body, digging in deep enough to disturb the stuffing inside. And surrounding the hand - dark blood. A massive shadow of red that still soaked the bear and marked Brigard's hand with its wet fur. The bear smelt of death; it was a smell that Brigard had experienced numerous times.

'Sir?' One of the Stormtroopers asked, snapping Brigard back to attention.

'What is it?' Brigard asked the Stormtrooper. He tried to use authority in his voice, but instead he knew he sounded distracted and unaware. Realising that this Trooper would likely report back to the Admiral, Brigard straightened his back and allowed the teddy bear to drop from his hand, making a new home in the dust and dirt. Brigard kicked it away; he wanted the bear out of his sight.

'Sir,' the Stormtrooper repeated, 'we found a human. It's a little girl, sir. She's still alive'.

Brigard's heart skipped a beat. He was facing the moment he had feared ever since the Admiral had ordered him on this mission. He had feared the moment of finding a living victim, and had feared what he would have to do.

'Where is she?' Brigard asked, his voice weary and strained. He tried to hide his discomfort in this situation, but he knew that the Stormtrooper was likely to pick up on it.

'She's... she's over here, sir.' The Stormtrooper walked Brigard to the large piece of wall that had embraced the young girl's legs and had taken her consciousness. 'She's still breathing, sir,' the Stormtrooper told Brigard. There was a moment of silence before the Trooper asked, 'Should I move the rubble? Take her back to the ship?'

Brigard could only shake his head.

'But sir, she hasn't got long,' the Trooper informed him, clear discomfort leaking through his helmet and absorbing Brigard's emotions. Brigard knew he had to speak, but he truly didn't want to. The other Stormtroopers were waiting for their orders, and here stood Brigard in total silence. He couldn't - he _wouldn't -_ be seen as indecisive.

'You are to leave her alone. I will kill her, as ordered.' The Stormtroopers flinched at this order, but took a step back. It was as if they were following an unspoken order to leave Brigard in peace, and the Officer greatly appreciated it. He would not find this very easy and would need all the strength he could conjure, but it had to be done - for the greater good of the Empire.

Brigard let his right hand - still marred with the blood of the teddy bear - drop to the modified and matt black DL-18 that sat uncomfortably in his holster. His palm wrapped around it, and he allowed his index finger to slip over the trigger. Slowly, Brigard pulled the weapon out of the holster and aimed it at the child. She looked so peaceful. That would not last for long.

A single tear drooped down the side of his face, and he no longer cared what the Stormtroopers thought of him. Here was Officer Brigard, a man who had showed courage in the face of none other than Admiral Iralim, but could not find it in himself to pull the trigger on a child. He was being silly, and Brigard had no time for silliness. He forced that tear to be the only one, and then spoke. His words were strong and secure, powerful and decisive.

'I'm sorry it had to be this way.'

A thin blast of red hit the skull of the young girl, and in an instant she entered a never ending sleep. A single hole sunk deeply in the side of her head, leaking gunk onto the gravel and ruins below her. It was the most unpleasant sight Brigard had seen all day, but he had no choice but to continue starring. The young girl deserved that much, even if she had died by the wrath of the Empire.

* * *

 _Starbird_ jumped out of hyperspace just above the desert world of Tatooine, stretching the stars as it left the other dimension. For a moment it remained deadly still as Jale took in the planet before him. This small isolated world held so many legends and stories, from the tales of Anakin Skywalker to the tales of Obi-Wan Kenobi's exile to the tales of Luke Skywalker's childhood, and to the tales of the Hutt crime family. Now this world told the story of a Rebellion more than fifty years old, desperately making a stand against the Empire even when everything seemed so bleak.

Surrounding the world was three _Hammerhead-_ class ships and around twenty small vessels from all across the galaxy. Not all of them had such dark and interesting pasts as _Starbird_ but they were all experienced in battle. If there was one thing that Jale was certain of, it was that Tatooine was the only planet that was truly well secured by the Rebel Alliance.

' _Starbird,_ please send through your identification,' said the voice of a young woman through Jale's comm. She was a Rebel, and if Jale didn't send through his credentials in the next minute or two, she would likely command one of the vessels to blast him out of the sky, so that all that would remain of his body would be vacuumed ash.

Jale dropped his hand onto a keypad on his control panel and carefully pressed in '1977', aware that sending through the wrong identification code would most certainly end in death. He checked the code over two times before he let his finger press 'SEND' and watched as the number disappeared from all computer screens in the cockpit. Now Jale had to wait.

There was a moment of daunting silence as Jale waited to be told that he had sent the wrong identification code, or that he was now believed to be an Imperial spy, or that his ship was tagged and it needed to be destroyed. Every second of the passing minute was spent in fear of what was surely coming - a blast of red and then a quick but painful death.

' _Starbird_... All clear,' the voice said, 'please land on platform seven.'

Jale breathed a sigh of relief as he took his ship into Tatooine's atmosphere, immediately being embroiled by dust and sand that partly blocked his vision; there appeared to be a sandstorm occurring on the planet surface. If this had been Jale's first trip to the world, he would have likely crashed into an unsuspecting building or flown straight into a sarlacc pit, but fortunately for Jale, he had parked his ship on Tatooine often enough to know how to find each individual platform. He simply followed his instinct and worked from memory.

Eventually Jale felt _Starbird_ come to a stop - slowly at first, before the ship's engines powered down completely so that the only audible sound was that of the blowing wind outside. Knowing that a team would likely be waiting outside of _Starbird_ this very moment in preparation to give it a good scrubbing, Jale launched to his feat and left the cockpit.

He had arrived just outside of Mos Eisley, and he was about to meet with General Leia Solo.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** So there you have it - Chapter 3! Most of the groundwork has been set for the story, and most of the characters have been introduced. The next two chapters will likely continue to put all of the pieces on the table in preparation for the rest of the story, but they should hopefully be good never the less. Next chapter will likely introduce Generals Leia and Han Solo, and the chapter after that will introduce a whole new group of players in order to broaden the villains of the piece.

After that, the story is free to go anywhere. Expect battles, fights, politics, new villains and new heroes. Expect lightsabers, X-Wings and TIE-Fighters to show up with increasing regularity, and expect more 'old friends' to make appearances. The story is likely to become more episodic as it develops, following one character each chapter as they take different roles in the Galactic Civil War.

One more thing to note - the next chapter will likely begin the introduction of many interesting background characters who will hopefully leave you asking questions and wanting to know more about them. In order to address these questions, ' _Dark Times'_ will have numerous one-time and anthology stories released, in order to flesh out the universe and give a real sense of what is going on.

Thank you, and please review if you have time,

Jacob Adams


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